


I'll Take the Rain

by fromward (from)



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Community: undermistletoe, First Time, Friendship/Love, M/M, Reunion Sex, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 20:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5306081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/from/pseuds/fromward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>There’s too much here, Clark tells himself. Sex is the simplest they’re ever going to get.</i> </p><p>or: the (med student verse) futurefic in which clark and lex finally get together after lex's return to metropolis</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Take the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to onelittlesleep for her humor, skill and alacrity
> 
> for undermistletoe 2005

“It’s more convenient to go in from the backyard,” Clark says, coming in through the gate. He can hear it close behind them and Lex’s footsteps on the wet ground. “And I like having the kitchen as my first stop.”

“The way it is at your parents’ house in Smallville.”

Clark stops and looks over his shoulder, feeling the drizzle blown into his face. “You remember.”

“Many things happened in that kitchen that were of great significance to me,” Lex says with a smile. “I believe you were there for most of them.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Clark says. He laughs, a little embarrassed, and starts for the porch again. He cursorily scans the house, happy to find it empty. Whit is at the stadium all day today, but he leaves stuff behind all the time and then someone low on the Sharks management totem pole gets to run around their house looking for whatever it is. 

Clark tells himself to walk on the red brick path so his housemates won’t give him the evil eye again. “I remember the last time we were in that kitchen,” he braves. 

“So do I,” Lex says, and Clark thinks of Lex hunting him earlier in the crowd. 

Clark skips the steps and walks across the wooden deck to unlock the back door. He waits until Lex is next to him before saying: “I really wanted to kiss you.”

Lex smiles, wiping the soles of his shoes on the rubber welcome mat, his eyes never leaving Clark’s. “And you did, Clark. Under my right ear. The flight attendants kept asking if my neck was sore and if I needed a heated pillow,” he says. “I couldn’t stop touching it.”

Clark feels his face heating up. He lets Lex walk into the house first before pinning him to the kitchen island. “I wanted to kiss you on the mouth,” Clark says, and does, feeling Lex’s lips part for him. “On the neck,” he tilts his head and takes his time moving down Lex’s throat. “In the hollow between your clavicles,” he kisses Lex just below his jugular notch.

“Is this another reason why you like coming through the kitchen,” Lex drawls. 

Clark gives him a wide smile and nods, kissing him again. What he’s pressing Lex against is just a table he and Whit bought at last year’s Harvest Festival in Smallville and got his dad to modify. It’s strong, but not enough for what he wants to do.

“You know, it’s taken us almost thirteen years to get here,” Lex tells him.

“Yeah,” Clark mumbles, putting one arm around Lex’s waist.

“It’s just you and me now, Clark,” Lex says into his ear.

Clark stops kissing him, stung. He wants to know if Lex thinks he doesn’t read the rags, which, yeah, he doesn’t, or if Lex assumes he doesn't have eyes or ears, which he does. 

Clark steps back and smiles, pushing down all the questions he has about Lex and Lucas Dunleavy. “Do you want something to drink,” he asks, “um, you know, before we go upstairs?” He goes to the cabinets and takes out a glass for himself.

“Some water,” Lex says after a moment, as if he’s confused. Good. Asshole.

Clark takes out another glass. “Oh, yeah, wait, you drink the bottled stuff,” he says, putting it back and closing the door. “Try that drawer right behind you,” he points to the hidden cooler. “We usually have some for guests.” He watches Lex turn around and leaves Lex to sort it out on his own. 

Clark walks to the sink to fill his glass and then to the machine, seeing the lights for his and Lois’ boxes lit up. “I need to check my messages.” 

Lex’s Adam’s apple is bobbing as he drinks. Clark feels his dying erection change course. He punches in the code and presses play, unable to stop watching that throat.

 _“Hey, gorgeous. You were fucking incredible this morning. I’m going to be home—”_

Clark hits the stop button to kill Whit's voice. Shit. Shit. Shit. “Wrong mailbox,” he says, slowly turning around, knowing how this looks.

Lex is staring at him. “Who else lives here, Clark?”

He debates on telling Lex the truth about Lois and Whitney and the stupid charade they’ve been putting on for two years. There’s no reason why Lex would tell Marcy Fordman about it, or anyone else for that matter. It’s not like bagging Clark is newsworthy and Lex knows from personal experience the trouble getting married without a prenup causes. He wouldn’t try to jeopardize Whit’s chance at getting out of his marriage without having to leave his salary and sponsorship deals behind for Marcy to bet in the stock market.

“Whitney,” Clark hears himself say. “Whitney Fordman. We go way back, Whit and me. Smallville, you know.”

“I own the Sharks. I know who Whitney Fordman is,” Lex snaps. “That was him on the machine, wasn’t it?”

Clark doesn’t get why Lex could possibly think that Clark has to be single if Lex himself isn’t. It’s starting to feel like they’re back in Smallville and Lex is being an ass. Again. “Lex,” he says, crossing the kitchen, “it’s not—”

“Like that,” Lex finishes for him. “Look, Clark, I—”

“It’s just sex, isn’t it?” Clark rushes to say, angry at how desperate he feels and how Lex has the nerve to get all moral on him now. “There aren’t any obligations. We—we have our own lives to live.”

Lex’s eyes shut him out and unlike years ago, Clark can’t even tell how he’s feeling from his heartbeat. It’s not fast enough to make a difference. 

Maybe that’s another thing that Lex has well under control, Clark thinks, troubled and bitter. He stands by the island and drinks his water, waiting. 

“Of course, Clark,” Lex finally says. “Whatever you want.”

Clark wants to tell Lex the truth, but maybe it’s better this way. For the both of them. He doesn’t have to be the one who’s awkwardly available and Lex doesn’t have to feel bad about anything. 

There’s too much here, Clark tells himself. Sex is the simplest they’re ever going to get.

“Lead the way,” he hears Lex say and starts to move. He walks up the back staircase to the second floor, flicking the hallway light on before continuing down to his sparse bedroom. 

The drizzle has turned into steady rainfall and Clark can hear dogs barking down the street in celebration. He steps into the room and waits until Lex, too, is inside before closing the door. He hears Lex complimenting him on the décor but he can't manage more than a quiet “Thanks.” 

Clark has an unusually wide and tall window that fronts the park, the main reason why he picked the room and not the larger one Whit has or the one they turned into an office. The off-white Roman shade is drawn three-quarters of the way down as if it's been waiting, ready, to take care of their needs.

He smiles at Lex, who is already taking off all his clothes in silence. “Oh, you can put them on the armchair, if you want,” Clark says. 

Lex smiles back. “Thanks,” Lex says, graceful and efficient. “It’s a little cold in here. Is there any way we can turn the heat up?”

Clark didn’t even notice the temperature, but then again, he never really does. “It’s been temperamental all week,” he says. “But it’s warmer in the office, if you want to…” he trails off, feeling stupid. “Um, were you talking about the temperature? You were, right?” 

He can hear Lex snigger. “Yes, Clark. I was.”

Clark gets down to his dark grey boxer-briefs and watches Lex, naked now, draw the _washi_ paper shade up and let more light into the room, his figure outlined as if he was made of flesh and moonstone. Clark feels his heart rate rise and he’s not sure if he should take off his underwear or hurry over and grab Lex from behind. 

“Hey,” Lex says after being whipped round and pushed lightly against the dresser. He kisses Clark, palming Clark’s erection. “You’re still wearing clothes.” 

“Take care of it later,” Clark whispers, rubbing up against Lex, whose cock is hard for him, for _him_. He puts one hand on the dresser and uses the other to stroke it. Lex is kissing him, slipping inside his boxer-briefs to do the same. “Oh, god.” 

Lex’s hand is on his waist and Clark feels Lex trying to turn him, or them. “Come on, Clark,” Lex says in between kissing and pushing back. “Your enormous bed looks like it’s a lot more comfortable.”

Clark nods and steps back, maneuvering them closer to the bed, which _is_ extremely comfortable. He feels Lex allowing himself to fall and lets go, not moving to follow until Lex is lying down, waiting for him. 

“You’re beautiful,” Clark says, staring into Lex’s clear blue eyes.

Lex reaches up to pull him down. For the first time, Clark sees the contrast between his skin and Lex’s. Color, texture, thickness. All different.

Clark leans over Lex and kisses him, feeling how hard he is, how hard the both of them are. 

Lex’s hands are touching his sides and when they strip him nude, Clark has to admit that it’s kinda cold in the room. He gets as close to Lex as possible without crushing him, kissing Lex’s shoulder, stroking Lex’s cock, using all the tricks he knows, the tricks he's been saving up for years in his head just for this. 

Clark feels like his heart is the only thing that's keeping him warm right now. For all he knows, he is out in the rain, with the dogs and other creatures who agree love isn't meant to be everything. 

It makes sense because Lex feels so good in his hand and he's eighteen again and Lex is walking up to him - they are smiling at each other and Lex's eyes are filled with desire and wonder just like his. It makes sense because Clark's throat feels parched when he notices how Lex is far from pale atop his white pillow and indigo blankets. 

Rainwater is never enough. One, two, maybe three falling onto his tongue, droplets at the edge of his lip, along spaces he knows only through breathing, the dry inhale and exhale of air. And Lex's skin isn't quenching his thirst. It's barely moist, except for the backs of his gentle hands and the curves of his cold, flushed cheeks. 

Clark doesn't care, he thinks. He has never drunk this before. The taste of Lex under his body pulls at him from the gut and plays his tongue as if it was marionette's arm, lashing away, frantic, mad and eager to please.

Lex moans and Clark moves up from his nipples back to his lips. Lex’s cock is leaking and Clark is torn between the taste Lex’s mouth and wanting a lick of his pre-come. 

He settles for Lex’s jaw, Lex’s ear and then his neck, and after the next stroke, Lex is ejaculating into his grip and Clark is stunned and confused and doesn’t know what to do as he milks Lex’s cock on autopilot. 

Clark feels Lex completely still under him and he decides on kissing that spot again, halfway down his neck, under his ear, where he kissed Lex—Oh. That day. That day Lex left for Munich and neither of them realized how long Lionel would take to forgive his son. And Clark thinks maybe he’s not the only one who’s dreamed from time to time for more than a decade about how this might be. 

He lifts his head up to look at Lex. “Hey. It’s okay.”

"Fuck." Lex stares up at the ceiling and exhales. "That hasn't happened since I was in boarding school," he says, sounding as shocked as Clark thinks he will ever show. 

"Thirteen years of foreplay is a long time." Clark kisses Lex’s shoulder. “I’m surprised you even lasted that long,” he jokes, kissing it again. He decides he’s fucking lucky he jacked off before leaving the Foundation and it’s not long before he can’t stop himself from giggling. Lex joins him soon after, even though Clark can still hear the shame in his voice. 

He doesn’t know what to say when he feels Lex's hands on his waist, stroking his hip, winding around to his ass cheeks and up again. The sheerest of touches along his cleft electrifies him and he presses against Lex, nuzzling Lex’s face with his nose and kissing Lex’s skin until Lex shifts and looks back at him. 

Lex's right hand runs through his hair and tugs as they kiss, mouths open for each other. Lex pulls him close and moves slowly to stroke his neglected cock, using just enough pressure to make him shiver. It’s sticky smooth because Lex is using his own come as a lubricant and Clark thinks he should’ve remembered that Lex is a genius.

He takes in the minutiae of Lex's face, the half-open mouth and the slight sheen on his nose. Lex’s eyes show fierce concentration and Clark realizes they are blinking to a beat, the same rhythm that Lex is using to get him off. 

Clark lays his forehead down against Lex's. He doesn’t know if trapping Lex's hand between them is such a good idea, but he doesn't want to see or feel anything else but the count and the way it makes him move. 

Lex's right hand falls down to the nape of his neck and Lex coaxes him to tumble to the side. Clark's head is on the other pillow now and Lex is grazing his chin, licking along his collarbone, his hand still pumping to that damn beat Clark wants to whine against because he can't see Lex's eyes or the movement of his lids. He's hanging on to the rhythm only by the feel of Lex's hand around his cock, skilled and steady but suddenly not enough. 

Moving further down, Lex appeases him by kissing and biting and licking his nipples, his left hand still stroking Clark while the other holds on to his shoulder. 

Lex’s tongue is hot and practiced, as if Lex has done this with a million other people before, in places less mundane than Clark’s clean bed and on top of his fresh linen. He feels his face warming up, wanting to know if he was just as good, worried that maybe it was only the memory of his kiss, or worse, the novelty of it that got Lex off so fast. 

Clark has no way of asking so he closes his eyes and runs his hands along Lex’s back, finding smooth naked skin and working sinews that remind him Lex wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be. 

He uses his fingers to play with Lex’s earlobe, his palm shored up against Lex’s neck. When Lex increases his pace, Clark pulls Lex’s hand from his own shoulder and lifts it up to his face, wanting to feel some part of Lex in his mouth.

Lex steals a glance up at Clark and says his name in surprise, the rumble of his low voice making Clark's nipples so hard it's almost too much. 

And then Lex is gone, pulling his fingers out as he slides down, his forehead knocking against Clark's stomach. 

Clark's breath hitches. He needs—

"Move, Clark," Lex says, and Clark rolls onto his back. Like a good fucking dog, he wants to say, but too afraid to, for fear of sounding okay with being shrill, like he's known all along he'd be the one under the other's mercy. 

Without ceremony, Lex straddles Clark and draws his lips down over Clark's cock, holding himself up with his hands on Clark's shocked, bucking hips. 

Clark makes a broken noise, conceding defeat. It's so warm in Lex's mouth, so warm and tight and unlike anything else because, in all those years of waiting with others by his side, there has been no one else like Lex. 

It's that beat again, he wants to cry out loud. "Lex. Lex. Lex, I—Lex...God...I—" He pulls at the edges of his pillow, trying not to tear it. Won't tear it, he thinks, if he clutches hard and tries his damnedest not to move. 

He hears the rain and sees the shadows in the corners of the ceiling, like a place dark and far away. He gazes down at Lex and starts to count every suck and slide of Lex's full mouth, every glimpse of his cock disappearing down to god knows where because Lex can take it all, he can take it all and Clark wants him to look up and look into Clark's eyes when he does. 

"Lex," he tries to grasp Lex's jaw, but Lex's head won't stop moving and he doesn't know how much longer he can think. “Lex. Stop.”

Lex eases and glances up, and it's like he's reading Clark's mind when their eyes lock. He lets Clark’s cock slip out past his lips, causing a small whimper that almost loses Clark one good pillow, and draws himself up. 

"Where are the condoms," he says, stroking Clark with his left hand. He wipes his bruised mouth with the back of the other and Clark hears himself say, top drawer, maybe, Lex, I—Lex. Wait. 

"What is it, Clark?" Lex leans over to the bedside table like a big cat, his bent leg on top of Clark's chest. 

Clark kisses the side of Lex's knee and runs his hand along Lex's thigh, touching Lex's waist and incredible ass. He glances at the window and sees the wet tree branches swaying, still under siege. "No, nothing."

He hears Lex close the drawer.

"Are you sure?" Lex asks, not looking at him.

"Yes," he says. He's sure, he wants to tell Lex with his eyes. "Please, Lex."

Lex glances at him and nods, moving to sit on Clark’s cock, feet flat against his torso. A small moan escapes from Clark’s mouth and Lex replies with a grin, tossing the condom at Clark as he slides back along Clark’s body, his ass rubbing Clark's leaking cock along the way. 

Unable to think straight, Clark lets it fall onto the bed. "Did you get—I mean, find the lubricant?" he asks after a moment. There's no answer, but he hears the telltale suck of air that always follows a long squirt of the thick liquid. 

When he moves his arm back with the foil in his hand, he freezes. Lex's legs are bent, his feet on either side of Clark's thighs and his ass in full display as he rocks his hips, sliding his fingers in and out. Two and then three at once.

Clark makes a sound that is probably a cross between a whine and a hoarse mumble of: oh, fuck. 

In the back of his head, as he tears the square foil open and unrolls the condom over his cock, he regrets not asking if he could've given Lex a rim job before the lubricant. He bats away the thoughts that rush in about once and never again and forever. 

"Ready?" Lex leans over Clark, kissing Clark’s mouth, coaxing it to open further with his tongue. 

Clark is kissing him back with all that he has until he hears: "Now. Let's do it now." 

Lex smiles and pulls back, lifting Clark's cock and sinking down along the shaft until all of it is in that tight, hot space Clark imagines he knows the texture of. 

Exotic, he thinks, and commits to memory.

Clark has a hold on Lex’s ankles as Lex begins to move up and down, feeling the angles before he seizes up and closes his eyes. Clark reaches for Lex’s cock and strokes it, memorizing the way Lex writhes and hardens and moans. 

It’s crazy how easily Clark is losing control and has to stop his eyes from burning a hole through Lex’s body. Clark grabs the lubricant and squirts some out, warming it in his hands before using it on Lex, trying to remember the beat Lex used. 

“Faster, Clark,” Lex says, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. “Faster.”

“O-Okay,” he says, lightheaded, back to stroking with only one hand so he can place his other forearm on the bed and sit up a little. 

Lex is soon following his rhythm, moving like he’s known Clark’s body for years. And Clark realizes that it might be true, except it’s not just one body. It’s a whole list of bodies like Clark’s because Lex can have guys like him any time he wants.

He shoots up, surprising Lex, grabbing hold of him and kissing his neck, his ear, his lips, his shoulders, places that blur together into a Lex he can remember creating for himself. If there’s no way that he can have all of Lex then this is what he wants. 

Lex is still riding him, but only as much as the position allows and Clark’s hands are interfering anyway, on Lex’s neck as he kisses Lex, around Lex’s torso, on his back, holding on to his shoulders. “Can I, Lex?” He whispers, tilting forward. It’s a small nod, but Clark catches it, too close not to. 

Clark moves them so Lex is on his back, legs bent and spread, holding his calves in his hands. Clark takes his time at first, resuming his tending of Lex's cock with a sure hand, waiting to hear Lex make the noises Clark knows now to be the right ones and keeping them coming. 

He puts his hand around one of Lex’s, twining their fingers together. He watches Lex break into a sweat. He fucks Lex in long, drawn strokes until Lex comes all over his taut stomach, cheeks flushed, eyes open wide.

“You're beautiful, you're beautiful,” Clark keeps repeating, rocking down to lay his forehead on Lex’s moist chest, kissing imaginary freckles and days spent in the sun because something in him is burning and he doesn’t know how to make sense of it all. 

Lex hushes and kisses him, telling him to let go, move back and lie down. He follows Lex’s instructions to a T, trying not to slip out from Lex and failing. Lex straddles him this time and lowers himself down with a drowsy smile, letting Clark’s cock squeeze back into his clenched ass. Clark hears himself cry out Lex’s name and shuts his eyes. 

He hears Lex calling him and bites into his arm, moaning. “Look at me, Clark,” Lex says, grabbing his hand.

Clark opens his eyes and feels like his whole spine is burning, his cock pulses and he is coming, coming so fast and Lex is looking at him, fingers rubbing against his palm, smiling, so beautiful and so much missed.

The first thing Clark feels when he comes to is Lex lifting himself up and Clark's own cock flopping onto his belly. Clark opens his eyes to look for Lex in the room and sees him walking away.

When Lex disappears into the bathroom and turns on the lights in there, Clark catches a good view of Lex’s trim body before the door closes and smiles. Clark hears the click of the latch and reaches for tissues to wipe around his cock and take off the used condom. He loves being able to use his speed because he hates the cleaning part of sex and if he could, he’d take care of himself and his partner at the same time so it’s over and done with. 

He’s getting comfortable under the covers when he hears Lex flush the toilet and use the sink. He pulls and holds the covers up, waiting for Lex to come back into the room. It isn’t a big deal, but what if this is the only chance he’ll ever get? “Come here, Lex,” he says when Lex appears, limbs loose and eyes soft. 

“I have to leave,” Lex says, a few steps from the bathroom door.

“Just for a little while,” Clark says, surprised at how calm he sounds. “Until the rain is over,” he dares to add. 

“That could be hours from now, Clark.”

The blankets billow when Clark shrugs, undaunted. “Until you _want_ to leave, then,” he says.

Lex shakes his head and goes to draw the window shade up. 

“Well?” Clark asks, wondering whether or not he can get out of this with his dignity intact.

Lex leans sideways against Clark’s dresser and crosses his arms, looking out. Clark doesn’t know what the hell is so fascinating about the rain, but before he can say anything, Lex turns his head and they are looking into each other's eyes. “Is this a good idea, Clark?” 

It feels strange to fall under that gaze again, like they don’t know each other and Lex is asking what Clark is doing on the bed, wanting things from Lex. Clark lowers his arm and rests his hand on his hip, bringing the covers down. “Maybe you should’ve asked me that forty minutes ago,” he says.

“Look, I—Oh, fuck it,” Lex says, uncrossing his arms. “You win.”

Clark smiles, lifting the blankets up again.

Lex gets in and kisses Clark with tender indulgence before turning over to lie on his side, his cool back to Clark’s chest. 

Clark makes sure that the blankets cover Lex’s shoulder and slips an arm under his, resting a protective hand on Lex’s solar plexus. He kisses Lex’s neck and hears Lex sigh again, relaxing into his embrace.

~


End file.
